


Don't Imagine

by GammilyIsMe



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canonical Child Neglect, Gen, Harry Potter Deserves Better, I seem to only write angst, Sad Harry, but this is baby first year harry sadness, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:07:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24982075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GammilyIsMe/pseuds/GammilyIsMe
Summary: Don't imagine Harry getting excited and preparing for his first year at a magical(!!!) school where he can be Just Harry. (spoiler: that doesn't happen.)Don't imagine it. Just Don't.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	Don't Imagine

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted 1/24/2016 on ffn. Updated and edited, crossposting on here.

Don't.

Don't imagine a small boy by the name of Harry James Potter. The boy with oversized clothing, messy dark hair, and a lightning scar. Don't imagine him curled up in his cupboard on his birthday, knowing it was supposed to be something special but having it so callously ignored by his family. Family wasn't supposed to act this way. 

Don't imagine his first trip to Diagon Alley. Please. Don't.

Don't imagine him on his 11th birthday, surrounded by strangers in a strange land, filled with amazing things. A place where the impossible becomes possible. People smile at him. They  _ like _ him. They know his name, call him 'Mr. Potter, the Boy Who Lived'. He isn't  _ boy _ or  _ freak _ or  _ delinquent _ . But he still isn't Harry.

Don't imagine tears of joy filling Harry's eyes when Hagrid gives him a snowy white owl. Don't imagine Harry later spending hours pouring through his new books, searching for a special  _ magical _ name from the wizarding world for his special new friend. Don't imagine the small smile that would appear on his small face when he finds the right name.  _ Hedwig _ . Don't imagine the way that he would whisper it to his companion, and have her respond with a soft hoot. Don't even think that this was the moment that the newly christened Hedwig decides that this human, she was going to keep.  _ (Here’s a hint: it was). _

Don't imagine Harry wandering throughout Diagon Alley. Don't think about the way that his green eyes fill with wonder at this fantastic new world. Don't remember that those eyes were the same ones that James Potter fell in love with. Because they were Lily's eyes. Don’t think about the fact that Harry didn't know his parents’ names, let alone what his parents looked like.

Don't imagine his awe at the fact that he had a vault. His very own vault, nobody else's. And he knew that it was real, because he had visited it before. He had seen it with his eyes and felt the weight of the gold in his hands. His stomach was still turning from the cart ride, but Harry didn't mind. Because it was all  _ his _ and nobody could take that from him. 

Don't imagine Harry going into Slug & Jiggers Apothecary. Don't imagine him initially scrunching his nose at the smell, pungent and unusual and nothing like he could ever remember smelling before. Don't imagine him getting his potions kit from an elderly shopkeeper, paying with galleons from his vault ( _ his! _ ). Don't imagine seeing his eyes bulge as he meanders throughout the aisles of the store. Don't think about how they would look, reflection contorting on a bottle of  _ something _ . How they widened even more when he saw the cauldrons. Silver, pewter, gold, and glass. Different shapes, sizes, and colors. Don’t think about how the boy who once had nothing wanted to get a solid gold cauldron, not knowing how to spend his money with the sad freedom that only a neglected child could have. 

Don't imagine how excited Harry would get when he realizes that he can make potions at home without magic. That he can study and practice over the summer until school starts, unlike the rest of his subjects. He can read the charts explaining what reacts with what and how and why and he  _ gets it _ .

Don't imagine Harry practice different techniques while preparing food for the Dursleys. He would practice chopping, dicing, and slicing. Onions, carrots, peppers, meat, it didn't matter to Harry. He wanted to be the best at something for once in his life.

Don't imagine Petunia being confused and suspicious of her nephew's newfound enthusiasm for his chores. Don't imagine her silent acceptance of his actions. Don't imagine her looking at the boy with his mother's eyes and remember Lily doing the exact same thing when she was a young girl. Don’t imagine the boy having more similarities with his mother than he will ever know. 

Don't imagine Harry, now at Hogwarts, on his first day of Potions class. Don't imagine his quill out and ready, taking careful notes as his new professor spoke. Don't imagine his tongue poking out from behind his lips as he precariously wrote out each word that came out of the professor's mouth. Don’t imagine him being excited about bottling fame, brewing glory, and stoppering death. Don’t remember that Harry writes the letter  _ g _ the same way as his mother. 

Don't imagine the professor thinking of the past, when a green eyed girl scrawled studiously into parchment, sticking her tongue out in the same way. Don't imagine the professor simmering in rage seeing that expression on the face of his mortal enemy. Don't imagine what happens next. 

Don't imagine Harry's startled face when the professor cruelly calls him out. How confused and embarrassed he would be, his face turning red when he is singled out, made a fool of. Don’t imagine how close two could have been in another world. But this is not that world.

Don't imagine the boy’s heart plummeting when he realizes that after all this time, studying and preparing, he never could have anticipated or prepared for this moment. The moment when his small fantasy of being  _ Harry _ , the boy who was finally good at  _ somethin _ g _ , _ shattered. 

Don't imagine Harry leaving the class with his face unusually blank. Don’t imagine other students trying to console him, telling him that Snape was like that to all Gryffindors. That Snape hated everyone who wasn't in Slytherin. Don’t imagine Harry thinking about the Sorting Hat, who said in Slytherin he could’ve been great. But he wore red and gold, not silver and green and life was never fair to those who deserved it most. 

But most of all, don't imagine a small raven haired little boy with his mother's eyes, crying because he  _ still isn't good enough _ . Don't imagine him tearing up his page of notes, fluttering to the ground. Other notes he had made in the summer joined it. Don't imagine them lying on the floor, in pieces. Don’t imagine the little boy, for that is what he was, a little boy, with tears silently falling down his face. Don't imagine the parchment bursting into flames, a casualty of accidental magic and a broken self esteem. 

Don't.

Just don't.

**Author's Note:**

> It’s old and still holds a special place in my heart. 
> 
> Let me know what you think!


End file.
